by Dave Duncan
rarely did much good.
A brisk wind blew along the fiord that
night. Even before the tocsin rang, the building
had become an inferno, with floors collapsing and
flames pouring out through the roof. By the time Wulfwer
and his friends arrived on the scene--shocked almost
sober by the magnitude of the disaster--the crowd's
attention was entirely on the two adjoining
houses, where thrilling rescues were in progress.
The three thegns had left worldly possessions in
their room, so they looked the other way.
Thus they were the ones who saw the boy coming
staggering out of the furnace, naked but physically
unharmed, mere moments before the building caved in.
Wulfwer jumped forward and bundled him up in his
cloak.
Radgar became aware of being carried swiftly
through the dark streets. "Dad!" he
wailed. "My dad is dead!" At first he had
no room in his head for any other thought, but
eventually he gasped out, "Mom! Want my
mom!"
"Don't know where she is." Wulfwer was
panting. Big as he was, he was carrying no
mean load in his arms and running with it. "Don't
know where my old man is, either. Don't know
who's after us. Gotta get home."
Men were hurrying by, all heading the other way,
most of them carrying axes or wrecking bars or
empty buckets. None paid heed to the man and
boy going seaward. Footsteps echoed strangely
in the night.
Radgar whimpered for his mother again. Then, "Where
are we going?" Where were Frecful and Hengest,
normally inseparable from Wulfwer? He had a
fuzzy idea they had been sent on ahead ...
somewhere ... where? Dad was dead. Mom had
disappeared. Was she dead too?
"Home. Catterstow." The big man was
panting. "Gotta get away from here, brat.
Swetmann'll kill us all."
"Who? What?" Dad had been murdered!
"Swetmann. Torched the house. Wants
to block the treaty."
It was hard to think. Mom too? The Bloods
taking revenge? Wulfwer must know, because he sounded
very sure of himself. At that moment he ran under the
stone arch of the gate to the harbor and Radgar
screamed.
"This is the north port! This isn't the way
home! Where are you taking me?" He began
to struggle. Dad was dead. Help, someone!
"Help!"
"Shut up, brat!" Without even breaking
stride, Wulfwer shook him like a rag. He was
running along the front now and the brightening eastern
sky cast enough light to show the forest of masts--small
boats moored to the piers, larger ones anchored
farther out, all swaying in stately measure as their
mistress the sea moved them. But everywhere in the
harbor sails were being unfurled, lines cast off,
anchors raised as the sailors made haste
to depart. A bad fire might mean men being
conscripted to fight it or even desperate
refugees swarming aboard; it was time to go and leave
Twigeport to its own troubles.
"Let me down!"
"Stupid! Stupid brat! There's
blood feud here. Swetmann and his gang get
hands on us, brat, it's sunset, understand? You
believe that fire was an accident?" The big man
ran up the ramp to a pier and then his boots made
heavy hollow noises on the timbers.
Dad had said that Wulfwer was not stupid.
Radgar had not yet worked out what had happened--
how Dad had been killed, what had caused the
fire, whether Mom had died too. Radgar was not
thinking very clearly at all, but he knew that Dad
had not cut his own throat, nor bolted him in his
room and fired the house. If a Cattering had
been murdered, vengeance belonged to other male
Catterings. Blood feud automatically put
Cynewulf and Wulfwer in danger also and
Radgar himself as well, because boys grew up and
became men.
Swetmann was a Nyrping, royally born.
Another man was running with them, guiding them.
It was Hengest. Everyone else was too busy
preparing to leave port to notice them.
"We're going home?"
"Home, back to Waro`edburh," Wulfwer
panted. "Be safe there. If my dad's still
alive ... be earl now, make me tanist."
And cats ate grass! The thegns tolerated
Cynewulf only because Dad wanted him. They
would never accept him as earl and who else would
want the surly Wulfwer as his tanist?
Cynewulf might be dead anyway, along with
Mom, and perhaps Leofric and Dad's house
thegns, who were his main supporters. There would be a
flurry of claims and challenges, but whoever
finally held the earldom would be no friend to Radgar
Aeleding. Maybe Wulfwer was the best hope he
had left, his only surviving relative. The
last of the Catterings must stick together.
They arrived. Frecful was down on the deck
of a boat, making it ready. That was wrong!
Granted that the harbor patrol had been drawn
away by the fire, no boat owner would ever trust the
watch to guard it. There should be men aboard, but perhaps
there had been and weren't anymore. In this confusion
a man might get away with anything. Wulfwer
jumped down to the deck, making the little craft
plunge and rock, and then thumped down three
steps to the gratings, where he deposited his burden
ungently. "Keep out of the way, brat."
The craft was a coaster, only six or seven
spans long, single-masted, with a small
deck at bow and stern. Radgar had seen a dozen
like her when he toured the docks. There were some
barrels stacked in the waist, not cargo enough to stop
her rolling badly. She stank of fish. The
small deck at the stern probably covered a
tiny cabin--a kennel for sleeping or sheltering from
the weather--and the hold in the bow would be reserved for
perishable goods. A raked mast bearing a lateen
sail was a rig simple enough to be handled by a
minimal crew, perhaps just the owner and a couple of
strapping sons. Big oceangoing ships brought
trade goods into Twigeport from the far ends of the
world, and then little craft like this one carried them
to outports all over Baelmark, returning with
their products of wool, hides, or salt
fish. In winter she would ply the safe waters of
Swi@thaefen, braving the open sea only in
summer.
Hengest untied the painter and followed
Wulfwer aboard, clattering down the little ladder
into the waist. Seeing that he had left the way
unguarded, Radgar clutched his wrapping tight
around him and started up, but he stubbed his toe, the
boat plunged again, and he completely lost his
balance, toppling onto the deck hard enough to knock
the breath from his lungs. Hengest and Frecful were
wielding lon
g sweeps, pushing the boat out from her
berth and fending off from another, larger, ship, so he
was too late to climb up on the pier, even if
he could have done so without help. Already there was open
water between the stern and the weed-encrusted piles. He
had no boots, no clothes. No friends. No
dad. Perhaps even no mom. If it had been
Wulfwer who bolted the door, then now he would do
the job properly, making sure his cousin never
set foot ashore again.
The rig was unfamiliar, but Wulfwer and his
cronies knew boats as well as Radgar
did. They hoisted the yard and set the sail as if
they had done it a hundred times. The wind filled
it and the coaster leaned over. Hengest headed aft
to take the tiller--and stopped, mouth agape.
"A fine night for a cruise," someone remarked
approvingly.
Remembering that last plunge of the boat before she
was pushed out, Radgar turned his head to inspect the
boots that should not be there and then looked
up. Sir Geste was standing between him and the tiller with
his arms folded, a picture of confidence, although
he was hatless and breathing hard as if he had been
running. A somber, full-length cloak hung
loose from his shoulders, swirling and roiling in the
wind, over standard Baelish tunic and leggings; his
sword hung on a plain black baldric.
Radgar had not known that the Blade spoke
Baelish, but the question had never arisen.
No matter, he was a very welcome sight, and
Radgar scrambled up to stand beside him, shivering and
clutching his wrapping.
"Not too close, Youngling," he said, keeping
his eyes on the three men. "Can you steer this thing?"
"Yes, sir!" Radgar fumbled an arm
loose to take the tiller and lean on it. After
Groeggos, she was easy. He caught the wind,
pulled her away from the merchantman she was about
to ram, and headed her out into the harbor. The wind
spitefully tried to unwind his cloak and he had
no hands free. He fought it to a draw, leaving
him steering half naked.
Wulfwer found his voice--lots of it.
"Flames!" he roared. "Where did you come from?"
"Same place you did, thegn," Sir Geste
remarked cheerfully. "I'm not sure we're all
bound for the same destination, though."
"What do you want?"
"I want no trouble with any of you lot, to start
with. I give you fair warning--I'm a King's
Blade. I'm not as good as I was at twenty, but
I'm still capable of cutting all of you into fish
bait. Against three I won't take any
chances. I'll play for keeps. Is that clear?
No fancy flesh wounds." He smiled, face
lit by the fast-brightening sky. "I heard my young
friend shouting for help and thought I'd follow to see
what the problem was."
"Did you so?" Wulfwer growled. He bent
to pick up one of the sweeps. Hengest, at the
other side of the mast, took up the other.
Frecful just fingered his sword hilt. "We're
on our way home to Waro`edburh and we don't
carry passengers."
"You go north when Catterstow is south?"
Wulfwer took a pace forward. He was a
few feet lower than the stowaway, but the length of the
oar he held more than made up for that
disadvantage. He could not swing it easily without
striking the mast or stays, but he could
throw it. Or he could thrust it like a lance and push
the Blade over the stern without ever coming within reach of
his sword. With the boat pitching as she was, that would
be safest. "Too obvious. Swetmann would have
been watching the south port."
"Swetmann?" Geste said scornfully.
"What has the earl got to do with you abducting the
King's son? Does he think Radgar tried
to burn down his palace? Steady as she goes,
Youngling. You're doing fine. I'm relying on
you."
Rolling abominably but showing a surprising
turn of speed, the lightly laden coaster had
already passed through the anchorage and set her course
for the open sea, easily outdistancing most of the
other fleeing craft. It took Radgar a moment
to work out what the Blade wanted. He turned her
bow a few points westward, making her pitch so
as to keep Wulfwer and Hengest off balance.
Wulfwer's brutish face scrunched in a
scowl. "Wasn't abducting. Swetmann's
leader of the war party. He wants to block the
peace treaty."
"I still don't see why you are kidnapping the
King's son."
"The King's dead! That's what the brat
says."
"Does he?" Sir Geste glanced briefly
at Radgar, too briefly for his opponents
to react. "Not just guessing, Youngling? You're
sure?"
"Yes, sir. I saw him. His throat was
cut."
"That's tough. Sorry to hear that." The Blade
returned his attention to the thegns as they all
continued to edge forward. Now both Wulfwer and
Hengest were close enough to strike him with their poles.
"So Cynewulf becomes king? That's how it
works?"
"My father's king now," Wulfwer agreed,
"unless they got him too."
"They didn't," Geste said. "I saw him in
the crowd. He won't last long, though, will he?
He'll be challenged."
"And the fyrd won't have him as earl," Radgar
said. "They'll throw him out as soon as he sets
foot in Catterstow." His uncle might be
allowed to keep his throne long enough to lead the funeral
service. There could be no balefire for King
Aeled. He'd burned already, his
fireproofing gone when he died.
Wulfwer shot him a glare, shifting his grip
on the sweep as if he were just noticing how heavy
it was. "Watch your mouth, brat, unless you
want to have an oar growing out of it. Who killed the
King if it wasn't Swetmann? How about a
certain Chivian swordsman?"
"Not too very likely," Geste said easily.
"No motive. And just how would a Chivian
swordsman get past the guards at that time of
night?" He paused a moment as the coaster
shifted her gait, feeling the open sea under her
keel. "My money goes on you, thegn. You and
your father. Either of you could get into the house. He
may not be able to hold the throne for long, or even
the earldom, but King Aeled was rich, wasn't
he? One third of all the booty taken in
fourteen years of war. He owns more land in
Baelmark than any three other landowners put
together, so I've heard."
"Wulfwer bolted my door!" Radgar
yelled. "Locked me in my room to burn!"
Wulfwer snarled and hefted the sweep as if
about to swat him. Everyone spoke at once.
Hengest was the loudest. "... never left the
hall! He was with us all the time! Not him!"
&nbs
p; "It was Swetmann!" Frecful said. "There's
only two royally born earls just now. Thegn
Wigfer`ed's a Scalthing, but he's over
thirty and no Scalthing's been king in more than a
century. Swetmann's a Nyrping and they rank
next to the Catterings. He can make a challenge
and he has all the earls in town already, ready
to vote on it. He did well cutting up the
ambassador yesterday--it was real stupid of
Aeled to set him up like that. The witan wouldn't have
supported him against Aeled, but they won't give
Cynewulf the dirt off their boots."
Wulfwer roared angrily. Hengest shrugged and
said nothing.
"They won't support Swetmann if he
murdered my dad!" Radgar shouted. But who was
to know if he had? There would be suspicion, of
course, but no proof. And the witenagemot would
certainly want to dispose of King Cynewulf as
soon as possible. Oh, Dad, Dad!
Swetmann it would be. Would he sign the treaty
or would the war go on?
The boat had cleared the mouth of the fiord. Her
westerly course had given her the sea
to herself, because that way lay only the dreaded
Cweornstanas. The rest of the fleet was hull
down to the northeast with murky shapes of outer
islands just visible against the dawn beyond.
"Stand by, Youngling," Geste said quietly.
Then louder, "So Swetmann had motive. But
how could he do it? You saying he had help from
someone in the house--the house thegns, perhaps? were there
traitors in Aeled's fyrd?"
The three thegns bellowed their fury at this
insult.
"Or was it his brother after all?" the Blade
continued. "Cynewulf for king and his son for
tanist? Motive and opportunity."
It was light enough now to read the doubting
expressions on Hengest and Frecful. King
Cynewulf just didn't carry conviction. Fat
King Cynewulf. Cynewulf the Great.
Dad! Dad! Dad!
"So now we catch you taking the unwanted
kitten down to the harbor. How about you other two?
How do you two brave warriors feel about
helping to murder a child?"
Geste's question hit Hengest and Frecful just as
the deck tipped, but he was slightly higher than
they and facing forward, so he had seen the ocean
swell coming. Even so, his timing could not have been
better. The two men holding the sweeps staggered
off balance, and that was all Geste needed. His
sword flashed into his hand and he leaped down into the